It was fascinating to watch Raphael weave through the streets. He didn’t need to be seen wearing his crown to be known as the king, but aside from a few furtive glances and reverent whispers, no one really cared. Bertha’s grand demand that all other patrons leave in his presence was the exception rather than the rule.
Raphael paused and looked back, realizing I’d fallen slightly behind.
He shook his head and walked back, rolling his eyes in an overly dramatic way. “Like a child in a crowd.”
“It’s not like I can fall that far behind.” With the bond in place, there could only be five hundred paces between us.
“All the same,” was all he said. He pulled my hand from my side, threading his fingers with my own as he walked on.
I started at the contact. His hand in mine… a first. But he acted as though it was the most natural thing in the world, and started moving forward.
But the small bit of skin-to-skin connection lit something inside me. His hand swallowed mine, firm and steady, a slight squeeze to get me moving. It made me realize how easy it was to be cold as a vampire. My body temperature was lower, though I didn’t feel it acutely. But the slight warmth of his palm—it was like not realizing you were hungry until you smelled food and suddenly you were ravenous and could think of nothing else.
I wanted to feel annoyed at his presumption. Yet I couldn’t hate it, even though I wanted to.
Raphael led me down several more streets. While at first I thought it was possible I didn’t recognize them, I increasingly suspected we’d never walked this way before. I frowned at the hanging signs outside the stores. Clothing, books, an apothecary?
“This isn’t the way back up,” I eventually declared. To the top level of Damerel, what was equivalent to the king’s castle in Ulryne.
Raphael smirked. “That’s correct.”
I wanted to demand he take me back, but to what end? I didn’t exactly have any grand plans, aside from trying and failing to unlock my magic with the grimoire.
“You’re not taking me to another blood den, are you?” It was as good a guess as any, since there was little else to come down here for that wasn’t in the castle as far as I was concerned.
Raphael continued to walk easily through the street, not changing his pace in the slightest. “Not unless you wish to feed right now.”
I looked away. “Good.” The worst part was, Ididwant to feed. I was thirsty, so thirsty, like I’d been cast into the third hell, greedy and desperate for relief that would never come. But feeding on another living person was something I’d never do.A mortal one,I mentally amended, as I could no longer count myself among the living.
This close, his scent was a taunt. The column of his neck flashed between long strands of hair as he moved. If I told him I wanted to drink, would he let me? Would he be happy I’d accepted this fate?
No! I’m never drinking from him again. I shook off the thought and continued walking. It was the middle of the night, which was about midday for vampire society. Families were out,shopping, browsing. My stomach was a dark pit as I watched a little girl, ten years old, with white hair and red eyes tug on her guardian’s arm, wanting to go into some shop.
Farther down, in a clearing, a few more vampire children played some game with a leather ball, kicking back and forth. Mops of white hair danced through the street. They had to be over seven, since they had no magic. Demos and Thea explained vampires would sometimes turn children at a young age, once they were proven not to be witches. Then they would grow in a half state with the weaknesses of both humans and vampires until maturity. I’d been horrified at the thought, but I hadn’t actually seen any until now.
“So it’s true, what they told me. Vampires turn children.”
“Is it wrong?” Raphael asked. “They’re loved. Cherished.”
“They’re taken from their parents,” I growled, anger growing again. It was sharp and sudden.Wrong. Bad. How dare they?Thiswas why I had to leave and hone my powers as the necromancer. How could I let these families be torn apart?
Even if the children were happily playing now, even if vampire adults stood around, at a distance, watching over them. The sight only exacerbated my fury. Because where were the true parents they had been taken from?
“Sometimes family is more than just blood.” Raphael looked at me carefully. “You know not all parents wish to have children. Especially once they see those children don’t possess magic.”
I recalled the disappointment my mother had felt when I’d turned eight without showing a trace of magic. Before then, it had been a frequent conversation topic—what magic I might have, and what I might do with it to make my mother proud. But she would never have given me up. Behind the anger, I felt a deep sorrow. “Surely you’re not implying the parents willingly gave their children up to become vampires?”
Raphael shrugged. We drew closer to the children playing in the square. “The parents who gave birth didn’t want their children. In the Witch Kingdom, they’re often left in the woods for the kobolds and ogres. If we get there first, so be it.”
I… I hadn’t known that. Raphael’s words cut through the surge of emotions I’d felt. I tried to analyze them, the same way he had me when we sparred. Was this really true?
I wished I could say it was impossible, but the words wouldn’t be able to pass my lips. Magic was revered in the Witch Kingdom. Voids had a role to play, but it was secondary to witches. “Fine. Then why not give them to families with their own kind? The voids who live here.”
“The voids who live here can make that petition. Just as the vampire nobles do.”
“And how often do they win those petitions?”
“You’re missing the fact that they don’t happen very often. The voids here have enough on their plate. The vampire families have had generations to amass wealth and prepare to care for a child. They are loved, little viper. Unconditionally.”
